


Autumn

by outruntheavalanche



Series: The Four Seasons [3]
Category: Flowers in the Attic - V. C. Andrews, Original Work
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Canon-Typical V.C. Andrews Nonsense, Family Secrets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-12
Updated: 2002-02-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:57:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: Autumn Duprés is a shy, withdrawn girl without many friends.  All Mamére wants is a normal teenage daughter who's interested in makeup, clothes and boys.  Especially boys.  What happens when a mother's ambition goes much too far?





	Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> I might finish this miniseries someday but I sincerely doubt it.

I had always been a shy, quiet girl, ever since I was a baby.  I was the polar opposite of my Mamére, who had been a soap opera actress in her younger days and was still quite gregarious in personality.  Mamére could never understand why I preferred burying my nose in a book over gossiping with girlfriends and meeting boys.

"Mamére," I would say, "that's _you_ , not me."

" _J’sais_ ," she would reply, exasperation in her voice, with a roll of her pretty blue eyes. 

* * *

Because of that - my failure to meet Mamére’s expectations - I always felt like an outsider in my own family.  My brother Jack and my mother were like two peas in a pod; both were beautiful, bronzed and blonde - and loud.  Put Jack or Mamére in a room of one hundred complete strangers, and in an hour, they would have one hundred new friends.

I was much more like Papa.  Dark and sullen, Papa and I much preferred the company of books to that of people.  When Mamére would drag us along to dinner parties or galas or social events, Papa and I would hang at the back of the room while Mamére and Jack would command an audience.

"Autumn," Papa told me once, after a particular upsetting episode in which Mama berated me for being too antisocial, "you and I must stick together.  We are dark, sensitive souls, and others don't understand people like us."

My handsome papa was, sadly, so very correct.

I would soon learn that a busy world such as the one Mamére wanted me to live in had no patience or sympathies for a quiet soul such as myself.


End file.
